Severus knew he was going to die.
He had thought about death before. Death is what truly makes us human, he had thought. Death, the ever present reminder that our time is limited, makes our time more precious. Ironically, it is death that makes life worth living.
He knew death was inevitable. He was not like the Dark Lord, or Nicholas Flamel who strived to live forever. He was not a coward; he did not fear the unknown of death. He had already lived through the death of his love. Dying would be a respite from the pain, fear, and loneliness he had felt throughout his life. In death, he would rest and move on. He could not pretend that he found death to be an neutral if not welcoming prospect, for he hoped to see Lily again. He wanted to apologize.
But as he faced death in the Shrieking Shack, Nagini's poison burning his veins, he realized he was not ready to die. He had not yet made amends; he had not sought out all he wanted to do. He wanted to see Hogwarts one last time, the place where he had finally found a home. He couldn't believe he hadn't cherished the miracle of the existence. Every rock, every tree, even this blasted Shrieking Shack was a marvel with colors and textures to explore.
Even the pain is wonderful. Pain means he is alive. And in this moment, he clings to life. He is not ready to let go and face the unknown.
He hears a sound. Footsteps. They sound as though they are coming from far away. He finds himself looking into a pair of brilliant green eyes.
Lily, he thinks. But no. This is a distinctly male face. Unruly mop of hair. Harry Potter.
Harry Potter must understand. He has one last obligation to Lily, to her son. Harry must comprehend the conversations with Dumbledore; Harry must take Severus's memories. Severus's life concentrates to one focal point. Harry Potter must understand.
Speaking hurts, but thankfully Hermione is clever enough to understand. Severus feels the luminous substance being extracted from his head. Memories. Soon this will be all that is left of him.
And as he feels the memories flow from him, he feels his life simultaneously draining away. His fear and panic of dying are replaced by a calm. His life will be ending, as a new dawn arises, free from the long shadow cast by the Dark Lord. Harry will know what to do.
Death is inevitable. He knows that every human being will die; it is only a matter of time. Life is pathetically short and arguably meaningless. He has accepted life's absurdity, and gone on to find his own meaning. For without his own meaning of life, there is no reason to live at all. He lives for joy of knowledge, for the puzzles he unravels, but most of all he lives for love. He lives for his love of Lily. He lives for her unbiased love; he lives to make her dream of the world, a world filled with love and kindess, a reality. He has loved in life; he has found meaning in his life, something more than the Dark Lord ever could.
He is dying.
He wants to see Lily's eyes. He is dying for love, just as she did, over sixteen years ago. Lily Evans, I love you.
He watches the green irides sparkle and gleam with life. His vision begins to go fuzzy and blacken; he strains his eyes. Lily, don't leave me.
To his surprise, the green eyes begin to sharpen again. They are open wide, almost lovingly. A strand of red hair falls into the green.
Severus. You are so brave.
Lily, he thinks. He wants to thank her for her kindness. Her love shaped him into a different person, different from the Death Eaters, different from the Dark Lord. She brought light and meaning into his life, where his family and his friends failed him. She gave him the gift of love.
Thank you, Severus. Thank you.
He focuses on the green eyes.
I love you.
Always.
Rest in peace, Alan Rickman.
